Two Cabins, One Lake: An Alaskan Romance

by Shaye Marlow

  He still didn’t look afraid. And he was even closer today than he had been then. I felt rooted, my blood running cold as he looked across the dozen feet separating us.

  Just like before, he took a step toward me.

  Mocha zipped out from underneath the cabin to put herself between us, barking wildly at the brown bear. The bear hesitated.

  Taking my opportunity, I dashed up the steps. I don’t know if the bear had some psychic knowledge that I was about to ruin his day, but he turned around and tore into the woods.

  I snatched up the shotgun, and swung back outside—but he was already gone. Swearing, my heart thudding with the remnants of fear and now a growing anger, I stood there panting, glaring into the woods.

  I refused to be threatened on my own land. I didn’t feel safe with that bear around, and it was obvious he was here to stay. He now knew I had food, and I got the feeling he thought I possibly was food. Thus, something had to be done.

  I stomped over to my brothers—still mostly asleep, damn them—and I thumped Zack in the shoulder with the toe of my boot. The heathen was sprawled out on the floor in front of the couch, looking none the worse for wear for not having a mattress of any kind.

  “Hey,” I growled. “Wake up! All of you. Wake up!”

  “Hel-ly,” Rory moaned.

  “Don’t give me that,” I said. “A bear was just out front. It tore open my freezer and was trying to eat my dog. So wake up!”

  “A bear?” J.D. asked, squinting as he sat up on the couch.

  “Do you guys have hunting licenses?” I asked.

  “I do,” Zack said.

  “Me too,” said Rory.

  “Well, then get the hell up, ‘cuz I have a job for you. I want you to go hunt down that bear, and bring me its heart.”

  My brothers sprang to their feet, obviously feeling motivated now that they had something to hunt, and shoot, and kill. I snorted. Men.

  As they got dressed, I fetched three rifles from my closet, and armed them. “Brown bear,” I said, “Pretty good-sized one.” I showed them what the beast had done to my freezer, and then pointed out the trail of snapped branches it had left when it fled into the bushes.

  Making macho noises, my three brothers hiked off into the woods after the bear that had dared menace their sister.

  My dog tried to follow them, but I managed to call her back. She squirmed as I ran my hands over her, checking her for injury. She was fine, no blood anywhere, not favoring any of her paws.

  “Good girl,” I told her, rubbing behind her ears. She might not have been a cuddler, but she’d been willing to take on a bear for me. “Good girl.”

  I went to the freezer and assessed the damage. The lid was bent, but it still opened. It looked like the bear’d gotten its paw in there—a few of the bags were sliced and torn. Miracle of miracles, it looked like the giant pike had been shoved into the back corner, and was entirely intact.

  I straightened the freezer lid as best I could. I took a hammer to it, trying to pound it back into place. I got it reasonably straight, and stacked some rocks on it to help keep the seal. It was temporary, of course; I’d be needing a new freezer.

  Once that was done, I went back inside. I showered and made myself breakfast.

  I had been intending to just wait for my brothers to come back, but as I finished the last slice of honeydew, my gaze caught on the neighbor’s cabin. I’d heard him sawing things as I jerry-rigged the freezer.

  He was over there. And my brothers were gone.

  My heart started to beat a little faster as I considered. Making my decision in all of two seconds, I pulled off my underwear, and put on the skirt. I knew my time was limited—my brothers could come back at any minute. I slipped on a pair of shoes (which probably looked completely silly with a skirt and no socks, but just then I didn’t care) and jogged over.

  My heart was racing as I walked around his front porch, my pussy already growing heated and moist. Really, all I had to do was think about the man, and I was ready to go.

  He was inside, cutting something with a chop saw when I rounded the corner. I stood for a moment, just watching him as the saw blade screamed. He was wearing those clothes again; a pair of canvas work pants and a plain T-shirt that stretched across his shoulders. His tanned forearms turned and flexed under a light dusting of sawdust, and I was enthralled by the easy grip of those strong fingers.

  He turned, board in hand, and finally saw me. He stopped.

  I didn’t have to guess at what he saw; I knew. When loose, my hair reached down to my breasts. The breeze tugged at the drying strands, and the sun glowed off it, and I met his gaze boldly. My nipples tightened under his slow perusal, until they strained against the fabric of my shirt even through the restrictive layer of my bra. The skirt hugged my hips and swirled around my knees, and he followed the long curve of my calves down to my scuffed shoes.

  My chest felt tight as I watched him take me in. He was just so damn fine, and though we couldn’t seem to hold a civil conversation—or maybe because of it—the man made me feel things I’d never even imagined possible. Sex with him was like a bonfire compared to all the candle flames that came before it. I was so wet, moisture began to trickle down my thighs, just from holding his gaze.

  I could tell from the look in his eyes, he knew I wasn’t there to borrow a cup of sugar.

  He set the board down. He took the pencil out from behind his ear, and set it atop the sawhorse.

  Then he lifted an arm, and crooked his finger. A wave of awareness went through me, making my whole body feel tingly and alive.

  Holding his gaze, I stepped up into his cabin through the open wall.

  We hadn’t even touched yet, we were still a few feet apart, and yet my heart was thumping, my face was flushed, and there was a hot, wet ache between my legs. His eyes were glued to me, and his chest was rising and falling faster with his breaths, giving me the strong suspicion I was having the same effect on him.

  His voice, when he spoke, was deep and low, scratchy with arousal and pitched for my ears alone. “Is that the same skirt?”

  “It is,” I said, taking another step toward him. My knees wobbled, already weakened with lust.

  His fingers twitched as though he wanted nothing more than to grab me. “And…what do you have on underneath?” he asked. He held his breath, and I knew exactly what he wanted to hear.

  I was happy to tell him. “Nothing,” I whispered.

  He groaned, and he looked down at me, searching my face, eyes sweeping across my hair. “Do you have any clue how fucking gorgeous you are?” he asked.

  I took another step toward him, a step that put us so close that our toes almost brushed. I lifted my head, staring up at him, feeling like I’d entered his atmosphere. It was warm here, the colors bright, the air thin. “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.” His hands lifted, and my skin prickled with expectation. Gooseflesh shivered along my arms as he gently shackled my wrist. He pulled my hand across the space between us, and laid it over his fly.

  My breath caught in my throat as I felt his steel-hard length, straining beneath the stiff canvas. Arousal punched through me, tightening my grip on him.

  “You do that to me. Everything about you—your wide blue eyes, your beautiful blonde hair, the way you look when I make you angry.” He leaned in so he could whisper in my ear. “You’re gorgeous.”

  I whimpered, wanting him so bad, it hurt. I took that last step separating us, and pressed myself against him. “Please,” I said, sliding my fingers into his belt loops, pulling him closer.

  “Please what?”

  “Please fuck me,” I said. With him looking at me like that, I was shameless. I would have told him anything, done anything for him, because I knew it would only bring me pleasure.

  “Oh, is that what you want?” he teased. His thumbs traced my hip bones before he slid his hands around the small of my back. He molded me to him, making his fly press into the gentle curve of my belly.<
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  Then his hands slid back down, and squeezed my buttocks. Hard.

  I thrilled inside even as I gasped and pushed up on tiptoes. I loved his unpredictability, how he combined gentle and rough so perfectly. We’d be going along, everything feeling incredible, and then he’d go and do something like that—and I was lost.

  “How do you want it?” he asked, beginning to gather up my skirt.

  I clung to the front of his shirt, feeling each brush of his fingertips through the material, a cool breeze as my skirt rose. I pressed my cheek against his collar, breathing in the clean scent of his skin.

  “How?” he asked again, and then his fingers were beneath the skirt. They were on the lower slope of my ass, and sliding inward, just around my upper thigh.

  I couldn’t speak. His hand had my complete and utter attention. I pushed up even higher against him as those fingers found me from behind. I gasped, my cheeks clenching as his fingertips brushed my anus.

  He made a sound of impatience, and then he pulled my knee up around his hip. The canvas was rough against my inner thigh, and my shoe struggled to contain my flexing foot and curling toes as I felt the cool air on my naked flesh, the hot slide of his hand between my legs.

  He leaned in closer, his mouth near my ear. “I love the feel of you, so smooth and soft. Always so fucking wet for me. The way you shake with need.”

  I wanted to argue with that one, but the truth was, I was trembling in his arms. My knee was practically knocking, and my breath stuttered as his fingers found me again. He only touched me lightly at first, barely tickling along my curls.

  His breath rasped in my ear. It felt like he surrounded me; his arms around me, the hot length of him against my front. I could feel the thud of his heart, and the hard press of his erection, and all else faded in importance. I only wanted more of him, to have him closer.

  His fingers delved in further, tickling my sensitive, swollen bud. Then he slid on by, finding the sopping entrance between my inner lips. He groaned as his fingertips dipped into me. I shuddered, tilting my hips for him, desperately wanting the full length of his fingers—but he didn’t give them to me. He just traced, and tickled, and just barely dipped, and then did it again.

  I made a sound of frustration. My leg tightened around him, and I pulled on his shirt.

  “How do you want it?” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.

  I groaned as he did it again, the barest brush and tickle. I lost my breath completely as his slick fingers wandered back and stroked my anus. I felt excitement bubbling up in me, a great rising pressure of it. He was touching me like he had every right, like he owned me, and… was it weird that I loved it?

  His fingertip pressed in a little harder, and my nipples did their damnedest to stab him in the chest. I reached up and looped my arms around his neck. And then I lifted my other leg, and wrapped it, too, around his waist. I hitched myself higher, until I had the bulge of his erection exactly where I wanted it, and then I sealed my lips to his neck.

  I made a helpless sound against his skin, and we both shuddered as my body finally eased and began to let him in. His fingertip slid in through the tight ring of muscle, the squeeze only emphasizing the aching emptiness of my pussy.

  “Gary,” I gasped against his neck.

  “What?” he murmured. He’d wrapped his free arm around me, and he clasped me tight as his finger slid into me.

  I tried to climb him, aware of the solidness of him, the burning heat and prickle of perspiration that moistened my skin. My breasts smashed into him with each of my heaving breaths. I pressed my cheek to his neck, closing my eyes as his hair tickled my hot face. “Gary,” I murmured again.

  “You gotta talk to me here,” he said. “Otherwise I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing.”

  I was silent. The pulsing ache in my pussy had been overridden by what he was doing to my ass. The curious feel of it, the forbidden sensations, the slight pull and sting all felt…amazing.

  “God, Helly…what you do to me.”

  What I did to him? Didn’t he understand how he captivated me completely? How one look from him destroyed me so utterly? He commanded my body, and the jury was still out on my mind. He could do anything to me, and I’d let him.

  I rocked my hips against him, pressing my clit into his fly. His finger was moving in me, pressing its way in, then sliding out, mimicking the hot thrust of sex. And I found I liked it. I writhed, working myself on him.

  Words were rising up in me, finally, buoyed by a burning wave of desperation. “Hard and fast,” I said in a hot exhalation against his neck.

  “That’s my girl.” In two steps, he had my bare butt on the saw horse. His hands slid between us, unbuttoning and unzipping. Then he was out, hard and hot, and his big, strong hands scooped me up and lifted.

  I claimed his mouth, kissing him with everything I had. It was hot, and wonderfully wet, and so intense his coordination of our parts faltered. But finally he was pressing into me, and his hands were on my hips, and I was sinking down on him. He was filling me up, and the feel of it was so goddamn intense—

  “Fuck, we forgot the condom again,” he gasped.

  I growled into his mouth, pulling on his hair. I glared into his eyes. “Don’t get me pregnant,” I ordered.

  He stalled, looking uncertain.

  “But do fuck me. Now,” I ordered, rotating my hips on him. The feel of him inside me left me breathless. I’d been so well-prepped, I fancied I could feel every inch of him pressing me open. He was heavy inside me, warm and throbbing, the fit so deliciously tight.

  He lowered me back onto that sawhorse, and then his hips were pumping up into me.

  “Yes. Yes!” I cried. I loved the hot slide, every naked inch of him as he pushed in. He reached new depths today, bumping hot and sensitive parts inside me. His balls were already drawn up tight, and they ground against me.

  “Helly,” he gasped. He pressed his lips to my forehead, to my hair. His hands clenched on me, but then he seemed to remember himself, and he loosened his grip.

  I wasn’t helping. I writhed in his hold, pushing myself into each of his thrusts, arching my back so he rode hard against my clit. I moaned as our flesh slapped. The pleasure roared, and the sawhorse creaked.

  He bent down, and I gasped with loss as his thrusts became shallower. But then he nipped at my aching nipple through my shirt, and I saw stars. My whole body tensed and tightened, and the arch of my back became even more pronounced. As he continued to nip and pull at my tortured nipple, my mouth opened in the beginnings of a silent scream. My thighs trembled around him.

  He chuckled against my quivering flesh, feeling me start to contract around the tip of his cock. My pussy felt like it was on fire, and even just the tiniest nudge—

  Squeezing my breast in his hand, he sucked on my nipple, hard.

  I bucked under him, completely losing it. My orgasm was a wild thing. I didn’t ride it; it rode me.

  He let my breast pop free, and then he was pounding in tight between my legs, again and again, plowing through my squeezing muscles.

  He had his hands full, trying to hang onto me. My body jerked under the assault as the pleasure redoubled, and then redoubled again. I couldn’t come down until he quit, until he’d finished, until he stopped.

  But he didn’t stop. The top of my head felt like it was gonna fly off. My cheeks were on fire, my eyes wide open but I saw nothing. My whole body was alive with electricity, grounded by the burning thrust of him into me. I was cussing in my head, every awful, dirty word I knew. But I seemed to have lost my voice, and my breath, again.

  My orgasm was long, and violent, and very, very wet. At some point, it began to feel like it was happening to someone else, this endless thrashing of my nerve endings. My toes were numb, and the feeling was crawling ever upward.

  “Gah,” I said. And then things went dark.

  Chapter

  Seventeen

  “Helly, honey.” The voice sounded l
ike it came from a long, long way away. “Come back to me. I love that I do that to you, but I don’t want to fuck a rag doll. Come back, sweetheart.”

  I realized I was dangling from his arms, his erection still thick and throbbing inside me.

  He smiled down at me, and then pulled me in against his chest. His hands gripped my thighs, and he boosted me up into his arms. I snuggled against him, feeling his hips moving and a slight breeze on the back of my neck as he walked.

  He carried me down the hall, and then turned left, through a doorway. One of his arms came from around me, and I realized he’d been pulling up mosquito netting as he bent and eased me under it and onto his bed.

  I moaned as he withdrew and left me lying there with my lower legs dangling over the edge. I watched through the netting as he started to disrobe. He peeled his shirt off, revealing that chest I was so in love with—in lust with, I corrected with a wince—the curves and planes and dips lovingly—shit, there I went again—shadowed by the natural light slanting in through the window. I licked my lips, my gaze roaming over him, feeling like there weren’t enough hours in the day to worship all that.

  His erection rose high and hard from his gaping fly, still slick with my juices. I was sure his legs were really nice, and would have admired them, too, as he pushed his pants down, but my eyes were stuck to his dick. He had a beautiful one, as penises go. It was thick and long and straight, and filled me perfectly.

  The things I wanted to do to this man… I wanted to have sex with him, in every position. I wanted him to push that inside me—in every hole. I hadn’t nearly had my fill of him. Not by a long shot. Maybe I was staring at him with a lusty, half-lidded gaze, because if anything, his cock just throbbed higher, and harder.

  He moved to his nightstand and pulled a condom out of his own 36-count box—My God, how many did the man need? His warm fingers wrapped around my lower leg, and he slid my shoes off my feet one at a time.